Unstable
by HostileSomniloquy
Summary: Bebe and Craig are together, and Tweek's mind is spiralling out of control. Warning: Angsty as all getout, character death.


Trembling hands flipped through a catalog, a few pages being ripped when particularly strong twitches hit. Craig's birthday was coming up, he had to get something perfect for him. Why? It was Craig, of course it had to be perfect! Perfect for Craig...

"Gah! Pressure!" With a loud ripping sound a page came out of the book. Tweak stared at it for a millisecond before dropping it and scrambling for the ever-present thermos, taking a large gulp of the bitter liquid.

He glanced at a photograph of them sitting on his bedside table that showed them by Stark Pond. Tweek was trying to hide from the camera, and Craig was boredly flipping it off. Tweek smiled a bit at it; he remembered that day. Sorta. Clyde had taken the photo for them last summer.

Last summer...it was so long ago. Tweek's eyes saddened a bit as he tore his eyes away from it and back to the ripped paper, shakily picking it up, taking another large gulp of coffee. He hadn't really seen Craig since that day, since Bebe wormed her way in...

A violent twitch ripped through his body, crumpling the paper in his hands. Bebe. Bebe. Bebe. He hated the name anymore. She stole Craig. He wanted Craig. She took him. Now Craig wouldn't even talk to him.

He dropped the paper again, scurrying to pick the catalog back up. That's why he was getting a present. If he got a good enough one, maybe Craig would come back. Maybe he'd see.

Even as he picked the book up and set it in his lap, though, he knew it wasn't true. He'd just get some halfhearted thanks as Craig went back to her. His fingers threaded through his blond hair, yanking at it. The pressure, the pressure, he was gone, he wasn't coming back, oh god-

The blond boy curled into a ball, yanking at his hair as he cried to himself. Gone, gone to Bebe, he was all alone again. He couldn't be alone. The gnomes would get him. Craig couldn't leave.

Twitching hands grasped the thermos as he drained it, searing his throat. Coffee, he could survive with coffee. He looked back at the catalog, eyes jumping around the page until landing on the picture in the middle. He had ripped through to the gun section. He stared at it, not really seeing it; he flashed back to times with Craig. Craig protected him.

He couldn't be alone. Couldn't. He slowly picked the catalog back up, staring at the gun section. He couldn't afford a gun. He only needed it for a little bit, though. Someone had to have one...

He crept out of his room, on a search. Gun, gun, who would have a gun. When his mother asked where he was going, he twitched with an "oh god!" before shouting out and running.

He ran for a while before entering a house that looked abandoned from the outside. No one was there, but there was stuff. He searched, knocking things over every so often whenever he would twitch or freak out at some sound. But he eventually found what he was looking for. On a shelf up high (he had to climb on a chair to see it) was a gun. He shakily pulled it down, nearly dropping it on his way back to the floor.

Once he had the gun he quickly scurried out, wild eyes scanning for anyone who might see him. He couldn't be seen, he'd get in trouble and then they'd-

He raced away.

There was a weird feeling in his chest when he finally reached the cliff. Exhilaration, fear, despair, paranoia, they'd all merged into a solid lump. He needed coffee, but the thermos was empty. He stared over the city, panicking a bit before sitting down and feeling the gun. He looked at it, knowing how it worked. He thought a bit, mind spiraling farther into desperation. He couldn't be alone, he wouldn't be alone, not again. Never again.

He quivered as he slid his hands around the handle, turning the barrel to face himself. His thumb rested against the trigger as he stared inside of it, mind blanking again. He couldn't think.

No one understood him but Craig, and Craig didn't care. Craig was gone. No one believed him, he was just the messed up kid on coffee.

Craig was the only one who believed him when told about the terrors he saw. No one else did. And now he was all alone, no one to help, no one to protect, he couldn't deal with it, the pressure!

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the pair of footsteps walking up behind him. He didn't sense the people. He had no clue until he heard a distinctly nasal voice.

"Tweek?"

And with a massive twitch, the gun went off.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so this is massively short and depressing, but hey, maybe someone else will take interest in it. I might make a second chapter, I might not - this was originally intended to be a oneshot, so for the sake of continuity I'm just going to post it as one.

Review if you like.


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